


I wanna be the very best

by ZerpentEle



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: #Chicken, #Hell never was more satisfied, #I don't know what I#m doing, #I hope I'm entertaining, #Is it prostitution?, #Probably, #THis is crack, #and other… things?, #auction, #both?, #bottoms, #breasts, #buttsex, #competition, #consent, #except Eric, #foot, #gloryhole, #high-pitched grunts, #i don't know, #masturbation, #naked bodies, #or, #orgy, #penes, #pls don't take this seriously, #race, #rattling sounds, #sneaking, #stuck in the wall, #vulvae, #yeah, #you-know-what, #£1, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:41:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26683852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZerpentEle/pseuds/ZerpentEle
Summary: (based on one of @Ryoukon s Less-Than-Fine-Art-Friday-Prompt-List-Drawings )~One Week. Seven days. 7x24 hours.One Demon. Eric the name.One arse. With legs. and toes. and no clothing.One Determination; To be the very best.His Opponents? Probably all of hell and faith itself.SO apparently, there is a butt in the wall of hell and the demons go nuts, while Eric grows an obsession. Can he fulfil his dream?
Kudos: 2





	1. Sunday evening

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ryoukon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryoukon/gifts).



> Alright Ryoukon let's go  
> Hope you don't expect too much.
> 
> I dont know what I expected from myself, though... no I don’t know.
> 
> To everyone else: Don't expect anything.  
> Warning: YOu could still be disappointed
> 
> P.S I'm not used to write funny (I try to be entertaining. THere is less pressure behind that u kno)  
> P.P.S I have no beta  
> I just throw the words out my brain and go with it.  
> Just me, myself and word  
> P.P.P.S Thats still too much effort, but the idea is good so.... *noises of self hatred* *blink*

There is something in the wind. As far as there is “wind” in Hell. Actually the air is pretty stagnant. If there ever was a breeze, a whiff, a breath….then.. Actually there is no “if”. 

Besides Eric has almost no sense of smell, there is something different reaching through the air just now. Something, which stands in contrast to all the other stuff being stuck in this airless air. Like someone forgot to turn the heater down. On purpose. And nobody makes an effort to open a window, even though there are none in Hell. Rude. One imagine all the farts...trapped.

Anyway there is something… angelic.

Eric takes a deep breath. Carefully not minding the other smells, which origin is unknown (it’s not… butt), he tries to get a taste.

He shivers and stretches his back as he realises. If his vocabulary were better (or worse), he might put it properly into words, however for now he knows he _wants_ it. Very badly (or goodly?).

Something is coming. It has to do with this, whatever it now is exactly.

Something concerning the demons, Hell, even _himself._

Something like faith itself.

Eric feels it. Like the little pebble in his left shoe, which he never manages to jiggle out.

He is a very less demon. Dispensable. Unknown. Butt now.

His time has come. This is his chance.


	2. Monday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the beginning there was me, already sweating on the first day.  
> Oh butt there is something to come~

Suddenly, there is Chaos.   
Don’t get me wrong. Hell is chaos. Especially the department for important records and documents, which is why Dagon is in charge about this something.   
The demons where exuberant like a mob of children without supervision. Imagine demons with no supervision. 

The tiding spread like you would expect the tiding about a whole angelic lower-body coming out of a wall and one could pay £1 to do sexual activities with it as one pleased, to spread.

£1 might not sound much, butt where is a demon supposed to get £1 from? It’s not one of Hells currencies.   
It is a curiosity. As is a whole angelic lower-body coming out of a wall and one could pay £1 to do sexual activities with it as one pleased.  
A curiosity for a curiosity.

Eric is not in possession of £1. He is not even sure if he knows what it is.   
However, he wants to see it, with his own eyes.

Eric gets nervous. His steps getting faster and soon he starts to run, as everyone and everything started to move to look at it as well.   
He does not know where he is going, although it’s not difficult to follow so many demons, heading for one direction like sewerage. 

He hears the Chaos far before seeing it. As soon as he gets there, he doubts if he would even get the chance to see it.   
“It” means the feet, legs and the butt. The unclothed ones. The angelic ones to be clear.   
Demonic unclothed feet, legs and butts he sees enough, as he needs to crawl his way closer to the spot in the wall. 

Everyone who ever was at a festival knows it’s a very, very, very bad idea to go on all fours in the crowd. A crowd in its concentration very similar to the human once at Wacken (or any other festival with many people visiting).   
Only difference; there is no beer and demons are not known to be as supportive as lifting one up and carry one to the front where strong and gentle security guards help you back on the ground (…with the feet…. so you can walk away. .. as long as you’re still able to).

Suddenly Eric reaches legs, which are very different from the others. They were wooden. He tries to stand up and then looks right into fishy eyes.

“£1”, Dagon says.  
„Don’t have any“, stutters Eric.   
“Oh too bad. Get lost.”

Dagon shows the arsenal of sharp teeth, which would only to a fool appear like a grin.  
Eric smiles back and squeezes awkwardly past the desk, which has a pile of “seemingly £1” on it. 

His fellows in misery are forming a semicircle around a ball of rabid demons, which were in possession of £1, in a dignified gab of two steps. Dagon does not need barrier tape or fences or any other security. 

Right now one yodelling demon passes Dagons table and the crowd hollers in unison as said demon jumped inside the gathering of limbs with vulvae, penes, breasts, bottoms and other… things? 

Eric sights heartbreakingly. While the demons around him throw a party like the chosen ones two steps apart, his lip wobbles.   
The surrounding sounds, so piercing and haunting. Sights, moans, lustful screams. Cheering, roaring, applause. Clapping, slapping and smacking.

He slowly is dragged and jostled to the wall as he barely moves. He imagines how all these sounds are made, by horny demons with no rules.  
With nails dragging over burning red flesh. Mouths liking the shit out of whatever they could find. Lips swollen as are sexual organs. Whatever one could use to grind is grinding past and into leaking mucosae. Every last spot covered in liquids. 

As the crowd of hollering demons turns into a crowd of fucking and masturbating demons, the clapping of buttcheeks burned itself in Erics mind. Not any cheeks, butt the ones of the Archangel fucking Gabriel. 

Eric saw him in Lord Beelzebubs office. And he made the decision to get himself a piece of an Angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to all security guards, hope your backs are alright <3


	3. Tuesday

Eric had been miserable.   
He had tried to get a glimpse of Gabriel’s bottom. It was hopeless. The demons did not stop until the body disappeared behind the wall and Eric was left with the taste of failure in his mouth.   
Defeating like you stood in the kitchen the whole day, cooking something delicious and you fucking failed. 

The next day ought to be better. As far as there is a next "day" in hell.   
It’s difficult to tell since there’s no moon and of course no sun and if you’re lucky enough to find a clock you also have to be able to read it.   
Or there must be someone around, who could read it aand had a very good (or bad) day to tell you the actual time and not a lie.  
Anyway it’s all for the birds, since no clock in all of Hell ever shows the same time as the others.  
At least Eric never stumbled upon a clock showing the same time as the one he stumbled upon before. Coincidence? 

The lower-body is back again.   
The demons rejoice.   
Sadly, every single £1 in Hell is in possession of the Lord of Files since yesterday.   
The demons mourn. 

Because of the growing dysphoria causing deplorable fights and trouble, Dagon lets ever demon unambiguously know:

First comes, first served. Run. 

A sudden rush lets Eric forget about the bogey and he runs. No, he sprints. No, he Naruto-runs past other demons straight to the object of desire.

As closer he gets, the more Gabriel’s flesh is covered in demons humping like rabbits. Damn this pebble in Eric’s left shoe.  
He jumps as nothing else is left but a deliciously rose foot.   
Eric misses it. The foot is gone. Hide behind a completely naked body. 

Oh no! Eric is far from giving up.   
He grabs the rotting flesh in front of him and yanks the demon to the side, got a glimpse of the heel and stretches his arm. No rack is capable of making this wrench possible. Willpower sure is.

Eric gets it and digs his nails into the angelic skin.   
As to congratulate him to this success, his dick raises to salute.   
He clenched more firmly, intent on never letting go. He squeezed and juggled, until he made himself room in all this flesh and piece by piece becomes part of it. Until he had no worries to lose the foot. It is his now. 

Eric moves his thumb over the chewy skin of the sole and laughs like a maniac in total zest.  
If he twists a little, he might be able to touch the toes. Oh how magnificent would that be?!   
He clutches his dick and moves his hand it up and down, gotta waste no time. 

He comes immediately and continues, makes use of every second and rubbed his thumb across Gabriel’s foot.   
Grisly and naughty bits presses against Eric and swallow him entirely in the ever-growing and moving ball of Fucking.

Something hits his nose out of nowhere. He recognizes labia and hair, then it hits his nose a second time and begins to rub merciless on him repeatedly.   
Eric inhaled deeply, scratches nails over the foot and opens his mouth to let his tongue lick, imagines to taste and chew the skin his nails left deeply red lines on. 

His face gets covered in slippery liquid, likewise his hand, which has to contend for its place around the foot with several hands, teeth, tongues and genitals at once.

It’s a jolting and mashing in splendorous agony. Any number of demons entangled in one another, captured in a rush of orgasms. No one stops, no one hinders. As loud as a whole flock of Chickens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a friend over and cooked for us. ..  
> yeah the flavour is awful


	4. Wednesday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The foot will never let go of Eric *sigh tragically*

It appears demons bear a likeness to lemmings, when it comes to have free disposal of an angelic lower-body.  
The fucking slowly turned into a battle royale and several decorporations had been the result.  
To refill the treasury the demons again had to pay something before they were allowed to even take a look at dat ass. As currency counts everything one could find. The value of these things is another matter.

Eric waits in line (as far as demons are able to build a “line”), deep in his pockets he plays with some buttons, three needles and one pen. That’s everything he owns and Eric is more than willing to give it all. 

He is visibly sweating, the closer he gets to the cashpoint. A demon plays cashier and decides what one pays for rather randomly. On the other hand, there is no one to check if the demons really do nothing else than what they’ve paid for. Not likely they do.  
Eric for sure would be unable to resist. 

“Fine, what you got there?” asks Crowley and inspects the pitchfork in his hands with one mouth corner hanging down unimpressed.  
The demon towards him stares.  
“You can slap the butt… uh…thrice. I’m sure the angel likes it.”  
Crowley grins self-satisfied, while the demon already has ribbed of it’s trousers and disappears behind the filthy curtain.

What would Eric give to hear he has the permission to slap the butt. Even if only once!

The next demon presents an old coat with moth-bites.  
Crowley sights, rattling sounds and high-pitched grunts are filling the silence.  
“I’m sure you’d like to grind one thigh with whatever you have between your legs.”

Next thing handed is a gnawed clipboard.  
Even more rattling and smacking is going on.  
Crowley tells the demon, it can grind the other thigh.

A broken pitchfork gets the former owner free disposal of feet and calves. 

Eric gets lost in a dream, which is accentuate with the noise of slaps and laughter.  
He takes a sniff of his hand, which had held the foot yesterday. He licks the palm thoughtfully and meticulous.

If he had free disposal of feet and calves, he would work his way up.  
Starting at the feet, he’d suck each toe specific. Implant their shape in his mouth, the feeling of the nails on his tongue. Then he’d lick along the sole, until reaching the heel and gnaw on the callus, hoping it tastes salty.  
All this while massaging the other foot with his hand, before doing the same procedure with it as well. 

Eric tried to imagine running his fingers around the bone at the outside of the leg, right above the ankle;  
biting into the calf, scratching nails over it; this time actually seeing how skin turns read; pressing and fidgeting his dick against the heel until he comes.

A demon totters panting out from behind the curtain.  
“Looks like the ass free”, says Crowley yawning, “Give these cheeks a kiss.”  
One demon is now left between Eric and his object of dreams. 

Eric pictures the cheeks. Round and full and bouncy. Perfectly to rub his face over them, to sink into them and never crawl out again.  
Oh it made him horny thinking about coming between the crack, could he hold his bladder at the sight of it? He would make the skin slippery and sticky, perfect to make the infiltration of his dick all smoothly. He’d eat it all out, to do this over and over again. 

Meanwhile Crowley ponders about another clipboard, looking at his none existing watch.  
“Alright. Body is yours till Dagon comes to check if I’m working. Ciao.”  
Crowley walks away, letting Eric behind with open mouth and disbelieve burning in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw that bone at the outside of the leg, right above the ankle is called “lateral malleolus” and is part of the fibular.   
> I did not know this


	5. Thursday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi

Since it’s markedly profitably letting addicted demons pay, the next thing keeping Eric from Gabriel’s body is an auction, led by Hastur. 

“Who wants an ankle?”, yells Hastur and in the region of hundred voices scream proposals back at him. Hastur never felt more desired and blushes.   
“I hear four redounded teeth.”  
The screaming gets louder.   
“Or two used toilet brushes, from this demon to my right.”  
A broil emerges.  
“Ok now its five redounded teeth! Sold!, Hastur declares and smacks his hand down on the butt to mark his words.

Every single part gets sold. One by one. The lower-body slowly vanishes beneath wanton demons.   
Eric has no chance. The slobbering demons around him are always louder, always more bidding. He and his 1 pen, some buttons and 3 needles stand no chance.

“Uhhh~ we’re getting to the tasty parts”, Hastur praises, “the vulva!”  
A Vulva?! Eric faints and therefore misses the opportunity to bid. 

Gabriel has a vulva.   
Means there is his own liquid, his own lube. One hole more, to stick his nose and mouth in, get his face dirty with whatever secretion comes out.   
Tugging, sucking the labia, while pressing his nose into the wrinkled skin.   
And what could go in! His dick in the cunt, fingers in the bum. Or the other way around!   
Who cares about physical possibilities? 

He'd spread him slowly and carefully. One finger, two, three. Open it wide, like a treasure box.   
Well, not too wide, it should still be tight, when pressing his tip onto the opening and thronging inside. Feeling how the flesh gives in to the hardness of his cock, how it spreads open for him every inch he sinks.   
He'd slide in at once, reach the deepest he can, to the very root of his cock and come and come.   
Until it's so squidgy, he slides in and out, piercing the ring repeatedly, wonderfully smacking.

“Who wants-”, Hastur proclaims and tears Eric out his waking coma.  
“Me!”, Eric yells on top of his lungs. Doesn’t matter what, this might be his last chance.   
“So what are you bidding?”   
Hastur heard him, Eric pleas two “Our Father in hell”. Butt there is nothing he could offer, besides..

“Myself.”  
There is a record-abruptly-scratching-noise. Every demon turns it’s head to Eric and except for a weird gagging noise it’s silent.  
"You?”, Hastur needs a second, then he laughs, “Ha! You’re worthless! All right who wants the butt?” Hastur smacks down on one cheek. 

Eric hears the echo like a punch in the face and cries out as he realizes;   
Feeling the foot with his bare hand was everything, he would get. He’ll never see it with his own eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohh no that's so unrewarding.
> 
> Tragic.


	6. Friday

Ass the body still was there the next day, Eric felt rather pranked. 

He damned himself for not doing everything in his power the last days.   
Now, as all the others had wrestled, jerked and fucked until the floor was covered in white stuff, the chaos had ended. 

The flood of thirsty demons ebbs away and leaves nothing but destruction. It has something relieving and sorting.   
No impulsive urge is left to suddenly explode. Something very different happens.   
It appears after three days of an insensate in-and-out-game, demons can experience a certain level of sensuality. 

Which Eric has the pleasure to look at.   
It is an ocean of moving limbs like waves, moans crashing at his ears like on a shore, screams of orgasms like those of seagulls.   
Up at the horizon there he gets a glimpse of the bottom like the lowering sun. 

All he had to do now is walk on water and go there.   
Seems too simple to be true. 

Eric straights his back and breathes in. He can do this! He would not get lost this time!   
He steps the first step and enters the labyrinth. 

He troublesome avoids stepping on limbs, while he watches out to dodge hands, reaching for him.   
After the first few meters, he loses his coat. He does not care, he can waste no more time and he does not need a coat there, where he is going. 

The deeper he wanders the higher the bodies tower and the louder the moans get.   
Eric needs to keep a clear mind. 

Something gets grip of his trousers and Eric has trouble freeing himself.   
It's holding on tight and a second later there is a second and a third hand, holding on.   
(I was today years old I realized second and second looks the same.)

Eric yanks his hip and fabric rips.   
He tries to walk faster, butt the small spaces between the sighting demons get closer and closer. 

Eric is caught more often. The next time he frees himself, he also frees his dick. 

Like sharks smelling blood, everything reaches for Eric’s cock, which this traitor is very fond of. 

Ass much ass Eric tries to concentrate, the more limbs are trying to tangle him in, the more cum sprays on him, the more his eyes see he can hardly break away.   
He needs to crawl over demons by now to get further. 

Suddenly a firm and aimed grip catches his cock and Eric gives in. He clutches at whatever is closest to him, while a hot and snobbery mouth takes him in and sucks until Eric sees stars. 

Ass his dick is free after several orgasms, his mind is beyond lost.   
What happened? Where is he? What does he want?   
More, certainly.   
However, he is not going to become part of the crew. Not now. There's still the chance he has to take. 

Butt he lost his track and can't see where he is. He needs to go on top. And there the unbelievable happens.  
He is lifted and starts gliding.   
He is actually crowdsurfing. 

Eric is too flashed to recognise, what’s carrying him and how and altogether?   
Faces, hands, feet flashes before his eyes. He is uncontrollably spinning, rolls from his back to his belly as he tries to control what direction he is going.   
Every inch of him is touched, since he is naked now.

Then he sees the butt right before him, it’s as if neon signs lead the way.  
Nonetheless, he is a demon and demons cannot walk on water. 

All too clearly, he feels greasy skin, pimples and rubbery scares, scales, slime, secretion.   
He is swallowed by these maggots, feasting on themselves for they’re all carcasses. 

He is one of them. If he can’t get himself something angelic, he surly takes everything demonic.  
Eric reaches the floor and his you-know-what already spreads open and thingies…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never been on any, but that’s exactly how I imagine orgies to be :D
> 
> time’s running short #you-know-what


	7. Saturday

It’s gone.   
It won’t come back. Has something to do with “keeping the Sabbath day holy”.  
Which is fucking stupid, cuz it’s Saturday.

Eric stands at the wall, wistfully stroking the cold bricks, looking very depressed.   
Here it had been. The Butt. The holes of glory.   
He stands there and ponders.   
Even now, this wall seems to be more wonderful than any other is. He might ignore the advice and lick it. 

It hurts him thinking about it.   
About the perfect roundness. Precisely circled shapes. No corners.  
In addition, moist humidity, like humid moistness.  
(I’m so darn poetic pls give me an Oscar or smth)

At a moment’s notice, he knows Lord Beelzebub wants him in his office.   
Eric presses his forehead at the coldness of the wall, before making his way downtown, walking slow. 

Beelzebub greets him with ignorance and browse through a pile of reports, head resting on one hand.  
Eric waits, singing the blues.

As some of his flies already spin down, because of the pathetic display and Beelzebub himself feels like gagging, he looks up.  
“Have newzz for you.”

Eric doesn’t care if that’s good or bad. Can’t get any better or worse.

“Your offer iz aczzepted”, Beelzebub says with a vacuous face.  
“What offer? For what?”, Eric says with a questioning face.  
“Yourself. For ze butt.”

Suddenly Gabriel steps out of the shade.  
Eric gasps.

That’s how Eric became the sex-slave of Gabriel’s lower-body.  
~fin~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thx for getting this far. also thx to myself. It’s no masterpiece, tho I did it, that’s cool.   
> Really didn’t thought I could do this.
> 
> Sooo how was the ride?


End file.
